Guts, Nerve and Grit
by SophieSaulie
Summary: The mission goes south and Billy gets hurt. Rick is questioning whether he has what it takes to be an operative.
1. Chapter 1

**Guts, Nerve and Grit**

**Dedicated to fellow fan of Chaos, James Murray and all things h/c, as well as kindred writer, Faye Dartmouth. This story is my gift to her for her generosity both in initiating and encouraging inspiration especially in the realm of h/c with my writing (as she was my muse for this story and all h/c contained within it) as well as for sharing her divine h/c inspirations with me. It's been a delightful exchange of ideas as well as fangirlish glee over inflicting delicious "suffering" to these characters. May the collaboration never end. Thanks for your friendship.**

Rick felt like he was in some kind of choreographed fight scene from an action movie. Usually Casey was the stunt man for the "hero role", thrusting himself into the fray of multiple assassins willingly and with scary zeal, using every one of his limbs as efficient weapons against every attack. Arms aimed with intent, legs raised to kick with immeasurable force. It was all quite entertaining to watch.

Rick had just wished he had paid more attention because this time it wasn't Casey doing all the action scenes, it was him. He and Billy were anyway.

He and Billy were fending as best as they could. Rick had to admit that he was quite impressed at Billy's economy of motion during hand-to-hand combat. Each of them had been trained at the Farm, but they also brought their own style to the fisticuffs. Billy's Marquess of Queensberry rules style was unique to him though, a style that even Casey had lauded. Using each punch and move with effective minimalism kept Billy from exerting unnecessary energy, conserving it in order to tap it if things became more aggressive. It also allowed Billy to be able to brace against assaults to him.

The true marvel of Billy's fighting style was his concentration. Not just to the battle he was engaged in, but to his comrade's as well, which in this case was Rick. He could detect distress as if he had a kind of sixth sense and at that moment, he had seen Rick's waning stamina in his posture and slowing reflexes. Just as instantly, he had spotted Rick's combatant searching then reaching for a blade from within an inner pocket of his jacket. Billy focused his intensity and swiftly brought down his adversary. Once defeated, he turned his attentions towards Rick's battle.

He pulled the man away from Rick, swung him around and deflected the arm with the blade, though it had grazed Billy's arm. Billy's intense focus barely shifted as he disarmed him, bending the arm at an unnatural angle causing the assasin to scream and drop the knife. Rick watched surprised at seeing the knife and tiredly breathed with relief that Billy had taken over. He then saw Billy flip the man down flat onto his back, stunning him long enough to hit him in the throat at just the right point to render the man unconscious.

"You all right there, mate?" Billy asked as he tried to recover his breathing rate.

"Yeh, yeh, though I'm beginning to wonder if Casey isn't the only one who's a human weapon," Rick teased.

"Nonsense! He is THE one true human weapon, lad, of that there is no equal or questioning. I suggest we best keep moving though for there could be more coming to challenge our escape."

Rick nodded then noticed the blood on Billy's arm.

"You're hurt."

"Merely a flesh wound. Let's get out of here."

Rick and Billy made their way quickly through the building and out into the open courtyard. They continued towards the forest outlying the compound. Just as they reached it, shots began to ring out. Billy took a quick assessing glance behind him and positioned myself to shield Rick. He pulled out his gun and began to return fire.

Rick heard the shooting and turned as well, seeing Billy staving off their approaching pursuers. He, too, pulled out his gun then slowed to return fire as well.

"Keep running, Rick!" Billy yelled, "I'll cover ya!"

Rick wanted to protest, but Billy then veered away to draw fire onto himself. He kept running as instructed but continued to look back so as to not lose track of Billy.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Billy ran into the woods and had disappeared, one of the killers not far behind in hot pursuit. He ducked in and out through the trees, listening for the killer's movements. Training and years of experience had heightened Billy's senses for tracking as well as for luring pursuers into situations that would gain him the upper hand. Much of the strategy was all about patience and control and Billy had prided himself in having both in abundance. They were both necessary skills.

He heard the stalking footsteps of his pursuer crunching the leaves beneath him, but couldn't see him. Billy took in a calming breath and slowly turned to take a look. He caught a shadow flitter around a cluster of trees. He began to follow. It was then that he felt the hail of random gunfire crack into nearby trees, he ducked for cover and where he could, he returned fire. More gunfire flew wildly towards Billy as he bobbed and weaved in and out, hoping to close in on the shooter.

Billy was worried that the panicked pattern of the gunfire as well as the limited cover available other than trees would make it difficult for him to narrow the gap and take out the gunman easily. Still, patience was in his favor so he moved deliberately and listened. The shooter would also be using up his ammunition soon. He'd been counting the shots, but didn't know how many clips the shooter had in reserve. Billy didn't have much so he had to conserve, not waste any of them and make every shot count.

Billy waited, listened and watched. Finally, the gunman impulsively placed himself out in the open, anxious to rid himself of Billy's pursuit and began shooting again. Billy found his opening and pumped shots towards his killer. He felt a shot hit his left side, but he barely registered it as he continued to shoot. Finally, he saw the gunman go down and Billy allowed himself to relax. As soon as he did, the rush of pain from the wound in his side made him lean against a tree in discomfort. The intensity surprised him and he found himself folding up, dropping to his knees, then to the ground.

"Bugger," Billy cursed.

He'd been clipped as collateral damage and he knew that it was bad.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Rick entered the forest and weaved throughout the trees carefully, trying to avoid injury that could risk recapture. He had lost sight of Billy after just entering and his chest not only burned from the exertion of running, but his stomach was knotted in worry about losing Billy not knowing if he was okay.

Rick then heard the shots. They echoed eerily through the trees so he found it difficult to zero in on which direction they were coming from. He darted stealthily, stopping to listen. An occasional cluster of shots would break the silence of the forest.

A few feet later he spotted a body on the ground, unmoving. He approached warily, unable to identify it as Billy, hoping it wouldn't be. Step by nervous step Rick advanced towards the body, gun firmly gripped in his hand, finger poised on the trigger. When he finally got close enough, he was able to allow himself relief, as the body wasn't Billy's. He then heard a groan. Once again he lifted his gun and approached the sound. He turned a corner and saw legs in a sitting position. He kept walking towards them and when he cleared the tree obstructing his view of the rest of the body, he saw the familiar vest then the face of his friend and fellow operative. He let his guard down to run towards Billy.

"GET DOWN!" Billy then yelled as he lifted his gun arm.

With quick responsive reflexes, Rick ducked down, hoping to give Billy an unobstructed shot at whoever was threatening them. Billy then gunned down the assasin who had been aiming at Rick with several shots. He fell dead to the ground.

Billy dropped his arm, grimacing and groaning.

"You all right there?" Billy asked breathing heavily.

"Yeh, yeh, you?" Rick said breathless as well from his pent up edginess.

"The bastard clipped me. Get me his gun, would ya?"

Rick complied. As he handed him the gun, Rick spied the growing wetness on Billy's left side.

"We have to get outta here," Rick said.

"Afraid you're going solo on that one. I'm not going anywhere," Billy arched against the tree in pain.

"No, no, I'm not leaving you behind."

Rick's words resonated with a determined tone and compassionate panic in his voice.

"While I appreciate the sentiment, lad, I'll just slow you down. Your best chance is going it alone. Get Michael and Casey. I'll hold back as many as I can."

The resolute acceptance in Billy's voice made Rick straighten in respect, but he knew that he wouldn't follow those orders.

"Sorry, not going to happen."

"Being a stubborn git will get you nowhere. I've made up my mind."

"Then I'm staying. One way or another I'm not leaving. Guess I've been around you too long."

Billy felt concern, irritation and pride over Rick's stubbornness to not leave him behind. He had always thought highly of the young recruit, no longer a new guy and very much someone Billy would trust his life to, yet he was also someone Billy felt responsible in protecting as well. He was like a brother to him.

"Help me up," he said as he tried to rise, cringing with pain.

"No, no, you said yourself you're hurt. We have to stay put. We should wait until Michael and Casey find us."

"Michael and Casey need to hone in on our positions so we need to get out of here and out in the open. They have to know that we're not in the compound. They'll be walking into a trap if they go there."

Rick couldn't argue with Billy's logic so he helped him up. He gave Billy his arm and Billy used his hand to scale himself up to a standing position with the help of the tree. A long groan that he had tried to restrain so he wouldn't alarm Rick escaped despite his best efforts. He wasn't a doctor, but had enough experience to know when something felt bad or very wrong, his wound felt like both, but that piece of information he was determined to keep to himself.

Once Billy was on his feet, he took deep breaths to control the pain and to keep the dizziness from the blood loss as much at bay as he could. Rick's firm support helped, but the practical side of him was rebelling against dragging Rick down with him, yet he knew Rick would be true to his word and wouldn't be swayed.

"Right, we best get going then."

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Rick kept checking his cell for a signal but couldn't find one. He also checked Billy to see how he was holding up and though Billy was doing his best to hide it, Rick could tell that he was getting weaker, hiding the pain he was feeling. He was slowing down and every step was a struggle, Rick encouragingly dragging Billy along more and more.

Finally, Rick felt Billy grunt and pull downward against his hold as if losing his balance.

"Rick, stop there, lad...I...I can't -"

Billy then turned abruptly, breaking away from Rick's support entirely and braced himself against a nearby tree. His breathing took on a ragged quality. There was also a sound of wetness that was soon followed by gagging coughing then vomiting. When it was over, Billy leaned against the tree, breathing deeply to clear his head, coughing to clear his throat.

"I'm afraid that though the spirit is willing, the flesh is far from it. We're going to have to find a place where I can rest and keep hidden until you get back with Michael and Casey."

"No, I can't -"

"It's non-negotiable, Rick...I can't make it any farther."

"Okay, okay," Rick acquiesced reluctantly.

Billy straightened up slowly, moaning.

"I saw a berm back a few yards. I can stay hidden there."

Rick nodded then hoisted Billy back onto his shoulders, causing Billy to clench in pain.

"Sorry," said Rick.

"'S all right, mate," Billy said trying to ease Rick's concern.

They backtracked to the berm. Billy looked ashen, but managed to keep moving as he spotted the berm.

"There," Billy said as he pointed.

Rick guided Billy over and helped him down to the ground. Billy trembled with pain as he positioned himself as comfortably as he could.

Rick pulled out the extra gun to hand to Billy, but he shook his head.

"You'll need it," Billy said as he laid back, the respite welcoming to his dwindling strength.

"You'll need it more than I will. It may...I mean, I may take..." Rick stumbled nervously.

"It's all right. You're not leaving me behind. You're going to get help. I'll keep myself out of mischief until you get back, I promise," he said with a breathy smile.

Billy took out his gun, checked it then cocked it.

"I'll be fine. Get someplace where you can get a signal and give Michael and Casey our coordinates. I'll be here waiting with bells on."

Rick heard in Billy's voice the same pep talk tone he had when he was comforting Rick about kidnapping LaRouche. It had worked then. This time, though, Billy was injured and Rick wasn't leaving to pull off a solo mission. He was leaving an injured friend and even though it was to get help for him, it made Rick feel like he was doing the wrong thing despite Billy's encouragement.

"Get going before you lose the light."

Rick nodded, hesitated, looked back then ran off as if being chased.

Once he was far enough away, Billy released the slipping and tenuous control he had over the pain and as he laid back against the berm, he let a primal grunt escape his throat as agonizing thrusting pain reached back into his spine. He prayed for unconsciousness, but it eluded him. He took in long breaths in the hopes that it would take the edge off, but it only just barely did. It was enough though to let him sit up in as comfortable a position as he could make for himself.

Billy needed to assess his injury. He dreaded the idea, but it needed to be done. Despite the pain radiating to his spine, for the moment, he was sure the bullet hadn't damaged anything there. He could feel his legs, move them and there was no tingling sensations anywhere to indicate nerve damage. For Billy, all that was good news because short of unconsciousness or more concerning bleeding out since he wouldn't be able to know that until it was too late, he'd be able to move when his team got back to him, he wouldn't be an obstacle to their rescue.

Years of experience and too many occasions of being in the situation he was in then had seasoned him to employ necessary evaluations such as appraising his physical condition, his surroundings and next step maneuvers.

Slowly and carefully, he unbuttoned his vest, moved the left side away where he then spied the large bloodstain on his shirt. It clung to the wound and Billy knew peeling it away would cause pain, but he needed to examine the wound to see how bad it was. He tried pulling the shirt out but the electrifying pain that came from trying almost brought unconsciousness instead so he unbuttoned his shirt as well. When he had gotten down to the wound, he pulled it aside. It was still bleeding, but slowly. It was another piece of good news.

After inventorying his injuries as best as he could with the sensations he had available to him, he felt that he'd be okay for the moment. He had to hope that Rick would be back soon or that he wouldn't pass out before he did.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Billy heard something in the distance. His awareness had been dulled by the pain, which had become his constant companion, but had been honed so well that even when not at 100%, he was still able to discern threats. He observed around him and heard the footsteps, crunching the dried leaves as if creating an audio trail for Billy to follow and they were heading his way.

They crept closer and closer then stopped. Billy grasped his gun tightly, at the ready as he always was, held his breath, and waited for the intruder to make his move. He watched as the body bent down as if knowing he was hiding there then a familiar face peered at him. Rick. He let go his breath and dropped his gun.

"You DO know that's a damn good way to get your head blown off, right?"

Rick gave him a puzzled look.

"And what was I supposed to do? Announce myself?"

Rick noticed that Billy's vest was open and spied the bloodstain.

"You, okay?"

"Far as I know I'll live another day, but I have to admit I've felt better."

"You've looked better too."

"Thank you, Doctor Martinez, your bedside manner needs a wee bit more work. Did you contact Michael and Casey?"

"Yeh, yeh, there's a clearing a short distance from here. You think you can make it? They're bringing a chopper there."

Billy clenched his eyes closed.

"I think I can muster that much. Help me up, would ya?"

Rick offered his arm for Billy to grab and braced him by taking as much of his weight as he could, but he felt Billy doing all he could to not lay his full weight onto Rick. The effort caused Billy to curl into himself and grunt with pain.

"Stop acting like a hero. I've got you," Rick assured.

Billy looked over at his friend and smiled.

"Right, then," he said and tried to relax into Rick's supporting shoulder. "Let's get on with it."

Rick felt Billy lean into him. He had always felt the trust there for him. Long before Michael and Casey could give it he knew he had earned it from Billy. Billy's innate need to protect him was apparent even through the hazing. Rick had always known that Billy was different, that though he would tease him, in the end, he would always take the extra step like he had with the LaRouche kidnapping. Billy had taken the time to calm and encourage, time that took away from his own preparations. Or when he had been shot in the leg, it had been Billy who had held the tourniquet the entire time. Even under the delightful effects of the morphine, Rick knew that it had to have been tiring for Billy to have held onto it for such a long time yet he had never relinquished it to Casey and had tried to distract him with stories. It hadn't been lost on Rick and he had never forgotten it. So now that Billy was injured, Rick was determined to return the favor and not let him go as they started towards the clearing.

Suddenly, shots cracked the nearby trees and Rick and Billy ducked. Instinctively, Billy reached for his gun, ready to fire. Rick was too busy holding Billy up to arm himself. The shots continued to spray at them and for every swerve they made to duck behind a tree or anything they could find for cover, Billy felt excruciating pain radiate up his side and into his back.

"Listen, you're going to have to get out of here," Billy said. "I can't keep up with ya. I'm just putting targets on both our backs."

"No, no, we're going together! It isn't far," Rick insisted, refusing to listen to any other scenario.

"It might as well be miles away, lad. There's no time to debate about this. I'll cover ya for as long as I can. You HAVE to go," Billy said, his face firm and grim with the certainty of the decision.

"No, no, I'm not going to leave you behind," Rick said, his voice strained with distress.

"You won't be, mate. Sometimes, there's just no choice other than the one you'd give anything not to make. This is one of them. I can't have you becoming a sitting duck with me when you have a chance to get away," he said grimacing. "When Michael and Casey land, I want you to take off with them. You hear me? Do not risk coming back, all of ya."

Rick was hearing the words, but his mind was rebelling, refusing to accept any of them.

"Now, GO!" Billy said as he took in a breath and stumbled off, marshaling whatever strength was left and available to him to separate himself from Rick. He shot as he left, drawing the fire onto himself.

Rick watched, frozen again. For what seemed like too many minutes he watched helplessly as Billy ran off, seeing the pain etched across his face, the staggered limp as he went from tree to tree.

"GO!" Billy yelled, finally breaking through to Rick's mesmeric state.

Rick pulled his gun out and ran. Just a few more yards and they'd be there, but Rick knew that even if they had gotten there, they'd be out in the open without cover, waiting for the chopper to land. In the end, the gunmen who had caught up to them would have had them dead to rights in the clearing. Though Rick hated the cold and harsh reality of the plan, Billy was doing the right thing, the only thing. They couldn't both hold off the shooters and expect both of them to escape. Billy knew that and he knew that as the wounded one, he had to be the one to take the fire.

Rick ran then turned to see where Billy was, to see where the gunmen were. There were two of them and despite Billy's injury, he watched him maneuver as if he were immune to the pain, immune to the soon to be disabling effects of the injury. Billy bobbed and weaved, his face barely registering the pain, but Rick knew that the adrenaline would stop pumping eventually, that Billy's body would soon begin to fail him and then…

"RICK!" someone called.

Rick turned again, looked up towards the voice and saw the faces of Michael and Casey running towards him, armed as well. He had never felt such euphoria at seeing anybody in his life.

"Billy's pinned down! We need to get to him!" Rick yelled unable to keep the panic from his voice.

He then turned back towards Billy's direction, never feeling so anxious to get back to a firefight, but as he did, he saw the slip, Billy crumbling to the ground, arching his back, twisting in an agonized way that made Rick's blood grow cold.

Rage as he had never felt it rushed into his body like a tsunami wave crashing inside of him.

"NO!" He yelled in anger so primeval in its timber, it scared even him. He didn't know where it was coming from.

Rick heard the return of gunfire coming from behind him by Michael and Casey, covering him so that he could focus his attention towards getting to Billy. He ran and ran and yet it felt like he was trudging through mud, his legs impeded by something impenetrable and yet he knew there was nothing stopping him.

When he got to Billy, sliding to get to him as if sliding into second base, all he could see was Billy's slack expression and wherever his hand touched, he felt warm and sticky fluid coat it. He looked to find out what it was, his brain knowing, but his emotions blocking any coherent and logical thought, he found it covered in blood. Billy's blood.

"Billy? Billy?"

Billy turned to face Rick and smiled, a blood streak leaking from the corner of his mouth, and he was panting through pain.

"You…know, we're...gonna have ta…work on ya following orders..." he teased, but his face contorted in pain and he groaned.

"Takes one to know one," Rick teased back, but he felt an ache in his heart that pierced through to between his shoulder blades.

"Touché," Billy said with a trembling grin, but it was wiped from his face by a rush of agony that caused him to arch, clench his eyes closed, and groan.

Rick tried to hold onto Billy as he bucked and quivered with pain and the helplessness he felt overwhelmed him.

"Hold on. You hear me? Michael and Casey are here. We'll get you on the chopper."

Billy smiled.

"Now who's giving the orders, aye?"

He clenched again with the now unrelenting pain and his breathing became more erratic and rapid.

"B...best hurry then, mate..." Billy said as he struggled to keep the smile, but failing.

Rick's face had a look of sheer panic. It wasn't like Billy to suggest anything less than survival so if he was telling him to hurry...

He looked around him and didn't know what to do. All that training, all his skills in first aid, all that hazing to finally belong, to be a part of something he truly believed would make a difference in the world and he had never felt so powerless, so alone, so desperate. Billy had made him believe that what they did was hero's work, that the only fear in a mission was the fear of failure. And there he was, facing failure, the ultimate failure.

Finally, Michael and Casey joined Rick.

"Enemy contained. Permanently," Casey said in a frighteningly satisfied way.

"We have to get Billy on the chopper...he's bleeding badly...and he said…we better hurry," Rick uttered softly in a daze.

Michael didn't have to think about the implications Rick was proposing. He understood as well as he did that if Billy was telling them to hurry, they needed to just do that.

Michael never underestimated his team's honesty, brutal at times, because he depended on it. He couldn't make rational and potentially life-altering decisions without knowing the truth of any situation, of any mission so his team never lied to him, to each other. The only exception to the rule was that they might lie to save each other. They all possessed a proclivity for self-sacrifice. There was nothing Michael could do to change that, not without being a hypocrite and he wouldn't because their close-knit friendship was the key to their success as a team. It was in all of their natures to protect each other, but Billy, especially, was prone to it. He sacrificed first and asked questions later. It wasn't because of a death wish or a suicidal tendency, far from it. Billy loved life, but he also desired life for others, to give them every chance at the life he so enjoyed. It was why out of all of them, he had faced down death more times than Michael would have liked, but he could never order him to not do it. Beyond the hypocrisy, Billy would refuse to follow it, would be insubordinate on that one point.

"Well, then we better get him on that chopper," Michael said trying to keep the cool head that a leader had to maintain even though he was as scared as he had ever felt seeing Billy pale and bloody.

Casey took one side of Billy wordlessly. Billy grimaced and grunted then looked at Casey with a smile.

"Why, can I have this dance?"

"Shut up and concentrate on not dying on me because so help me if you do, I'll make you sorry you did," Casey said in his usual antagonistic style.

"Well, how can I refuse such a charmingly expressed request like that?"

Michael held Billy up on the other side as he groaned again. They carried him while Rick was close behind covering them in case someone else was out laying in wait.

They climbed into the chopper and laid Billy as gently as they could on the floor. He had lost consciousness and his breathing was ragged. They all worried not only about what damage the bullets had done, but also what additional damage they had caused getting him onto the chopper. It had been necessary, but it didn't ease the tension and anxiety.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

The men had landed on the helioport roof and the trauma doctors took over. The trauma team got Billy on a gurney and they surrounded him completely, obstructing the men's view of him as they began life saving and life sustaining measures. They had been amazed that Billy was still alive even if barely.

Rick, Michael and Casey were covered in his blood and it seemed impossible that he could still have any blood left in him. They watched, shock and distress written all over their faces.

The doctors and nurses wheeled him hurriedly away. The remaining three men were stunned in place. Having gotten Billy there as best as they could, they suddenly found themselves without a purpose. Billy's life was now in someone else's hands to save. They should have felt relieved, but none of them felt anywhere near relieved.

They slowly walked to the waiting room. A sympathetic nurse saw their blood stained clothes and heartbroken expressions and took pity. She led them to an area just outside surgery instead of the waiting room, partly so they wouldn't scare everyone else there by their appearance, but mostly because she felt the bond between these men and the man they had brought in. The only time she had felt such collective anguish was with firefighters when a comrade of theirs had been injured. They needed to be alone together. She told them that Billy was being operated on and reassured them that he was in the best of hands. That should have comforted them, but it didn't. Nothing would until they saw it for themselves, saw Billy alive and talking…especially talking. It was Billy's way with words, whether it was to lighten with his humor or to comfort with his confidence, he kept the team in one piece with his words and without him the silence was not only deafening, it was painful.

Rick was taking it the hardest.

"I shouldn't have left him. I should have taken him with me."

Michael watched Rick's struggle with sympathy. He had been there more times than he'd like to remember, was going through it now, but he had to set aside his own pain and give comfort to a young man who shouldn't have to suffer such insecurities, not alone anyway. Sadly, there would be many more of these moments in his career, but sooner or later he'd have to come to peace with the fact that sometimes you could do all the right things, make all the right decisions and still not get the one result you wanted.

"You did the right thing," he tried to soothe. "If you'd stayed, we'd never have gotten your position."

Rick shook his head.

"I don't know. I don't know."

"Get a hold of yourself, Martinez. You can't second-guess decisions like that. Once you do, you're done for in the CIA because you'll never be able to get past the what-ifs. There are no what-ifs here, just what had to be done and you did what had to be done."

Michael smiled. Leave it to Casey to rationalize the situation in the simplest way possible and to make it solidly practical as well as comforting. Rick also had been surprised at Casey's conviction and his words did comfort, but only a little.

"Billy's been through this before. More times than I'd rather think about, but we all have," Michael said.

"And second to me, that man has got an iron will that amazes even me. I've written him off a few times and the damned Scotsman just won't die, not even to prove me right so don't count him out, Martinez. Don't EVER count that man out."

Rick couldn't help but smile at that comment. It was the kind of irrefutable logic that a man like Casey would never offer unless he believed it whole-heartedly. Rick nodded in recognition then sat in a chair, exhausted. The other two followed suit. Rick was quickly asleep. Michael turned to Casey and gave him a knowing look.

"He looked bad, Michael, but what I told Rick was true. I'm not willing to count Billy out, not after all the times he's come back."

Michael then nodded. He trusted Casey's ability to assess injuries and though he, too, worried about the damage that Billy had been subjected to, he had been amazed himself at Billy's remarkable capacity to recover and wasn't willing to give up on him either. Billy had a way of making the most cynical believe.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

The surgery had gone on for hours. All of them had finally surrendered to sleep despite best efforts, especially by Casey, to fight it. The surgeon finally walked in and Michael's honed skill at light sleeping allowed him to sense it and wake up. Once he did, the others followed his lead as they often did. He stood up, straightened his suit and cleared his throat.

"Doctor, how is he doing?"

The gravity on the doctor's face didn't make any of them feel assured, if anything, blissful ignorance seemed more desirable at that moment.

"He's stable which in of itself is remarkable given the assault on his body."

Casey and Michael exchanged looks again. Rick was too intent on listening to the doctor's words to notice.

"We removed four bullets; two of them caused minimal damage and were easily extracted. That's the good news."

"And the bad news?" Casey interjected needing to get to the real facts quickly.

"Two others were not so easily extracted. One nicked the heart and the other the right lung. The lung had collapsed and we had to work on repairing it and re-inflating it. There's still a chance of infection and for the lung to collapse again. The one that nicked the heart was a lot trickier. He coded on the table as we tried to repair it."

The almost calm and cold recitation of Billy's injuries and complications made Rick feel lightheaded. The fact that Billy had gone into arrest drove an ice pick like pain into his chest. He had to close his eyes to keep from passing out.

"What's his prognosis?"

"I can't give you absolutes. He needs a lot of rest. We're keeping him in a medically induced coma for the foreseeable future to maximize healing. The rest is really up to him."

"When can we see him?" Rick finally found his voice to speak.

"Tomorrow. I'd really like him to just recover from the surgery for the night."

"Thank you, doctor," Michael said.

The doctor could only nod and then walked away. Once out of earshot, Casey muttered, "Yeh, thanks for nothing."

Michael gave him a gentle glare.

"Okay, listen, we can't do anything for Billy tonight. I suggest we go to the hotel, get cleaned up and get as much sleep as we can. I'll read Higgins in on everything and request some time off so that we can be there for Billy."

Casey and Rick both nodded tiredly.

When they all got back to the hotel, Rick couldn't wait to shed his clothes and take a hot shower. He was bone-tired physically and drained emotionally. Once he had finished, he got into sweats and lay on his bed. Ironically, he suddenly didn't feel tired anymore. Still, he closed his eyes in the hopes that sleep would come to him eventually.

Images of Billy and his words kept flashing in his mind. Reminders of how Billy had helped him.

"_You know, if this is it, if this is really it, it's okay."_

"_Rubbish! It's the lollipop talking. You're fine."_

"_Look,__only __a __fool __would __walk __knowingly __into __a __potential __firefight __unafraid, __okay? __Because __fear __has __a __very __real __purpose, __it __reminds __us __that __we're __vulnerable ,__fragile __even. __But __if __you __feel __you __don't __have __a __handle __on __that __fear, __we __need __to __pull __the __plug __right __now. __And __there's __no __point __in __looking __over __there. __It's __not __their __call __or __mine. __It's__y ours."_

"_The world blind to their valorous deed/Blinded as well to the untold story/Of their devotion to good/Their commitment to glory…"_

"_Two humble warriors whose song is unwritten/Stirring the embers of valiantry long past/Accepting their roles as heroes uncast."_

Rick opened his eyes to stop them because any more of them would bring him to his knees in despair. Yes, Billy was still alive, but just barely and even with Rick's inclination towards positivity, he couldn't muster the hope he so desperately needed at that moment and he knew why. It was because in the past when he had wavered, so much so that he doubted himself, it had been Billy who had pulled him up. Now, it was Billy who needed it and Rick felt woefully inadequate because he had no clue how to do that for him.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

A week had passed and Billy was making good progress, which sent relief through Rick, Michael and Casey. They had maintained their vigils, taking turns being in Billy's room.

Tonight had been Casey's turn and unlike all the times before where he would just sit and meditate, seemingly focusing his energies inward, having heard that Billy was improving and had slowly been weaned off the medications keeping him in a coma, Casey sat close, watching Billy breathe.

"You know, you're supposed to be waking up now. The doctors said, not that I ever believe what they tell me, that you should be coming out of it, but leave it to you to delay it and make the rest of us suffer…to make me suffer..."

Casey took in a breath.

"I really hate that you do this…that you have to do this. I can't trust you to just…" Casey trailed off, letting the sentence die, but in his thoughts he had finished it, _"…__let__me__do__my__job.__"_

Casey logically knew that he couldn't be there for every situation that required physical force and most times, circumstances presented themselves unpredictably. He also knew that they all had the training to confront face-to-face combat, but times like these when one of them is injured, all the cold logic of knowing those things, didn't ease the feeling that Casey always got when he stood unscathed and someone else was lying in a hospital bed, that he should have been there. He was the human weapon. He was to be implanted like a weapon of mass destruction into a hostile environment to exact the maximum damage. He thrived in that role.

He had accepted long ago that death would come to him hopefully, in an instant and in many ways he had always hoped that it would come that swiftly. It was why he had transitory relationships with the exception of Michael, Billy, and now Rick. Like he had told Linda, he had to be at 100% not 98% to be fully engaged in a mission. Even the reluctant 2% that he had given her was too much to sacrifice and though he did love her, he couldn't love her and be the human weapon, to be there for Michael, Rick and Billy.

He had experienced his share of injuries and hospitalizations. It was all a part of the job, a part of the consequences he had willingly accepted for leaping into hand-to-hand combat with full-on commitment and aggression. Casey had never imagined that he'd have competition for that zeal and determination.

He had found it in Billy.

Billy also seemed to thrust himself into harm's way in order to protect and save those he cared about, that there was no risk to himself so great that he wouldn't put his own body in the line of fire for his team mates, but Billy also seemed destined to catch the worst injuries. Still, despite all that, he had always survived and Casey admired Billy's grit and determined will to live.

"Damn it, Billy. This isn't funny anymore. Stop fooling around and wake up, will ya? You're pissing me off now."

Casey put his face into his hands. A rare break in control.

"Well, can't have that, can I?" Said a raspy voice.

Casey jolted his head up and saw that Billy had turned his head to look at him. For a moment he was speechless, caught between shock and joy, unable to reveal either with any kind of ease.

"My, my, I think I've rendered the human weapon impotent," Billy said weakly, a small smile on his face.

"About time you woke up and who are you calling impotent?" Casey said moderating the relief and happiness he felt.

Billy's smile broadened.

"Ah, there's no place like home," Billy teased as he breathed in deeply.

Casey let a small corner of his mouth crack with a smile.

"Glad you're not dead," he said.

Billy appreciated Casey's concession to sentiment.

"Aye, it's a relief to be still among the living."

Casey's face then crumbled just ever so slightly.

"Don't EVER do that again."

It had become a routine between them when one of them got hurt. They'd make promises that they knew neither of them would keep, but communicated everything without getting overly sentimental.

"Right, then, I'll leave the heroics to you from now on, mate."

Billy then faded into sleep. Casey could only sigh in relief.

"Liar," he said.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Word of Billy's emergence from unconsciousness got to Rick and Michael and they all came around to visit.

"The doctor says you're going to be okay," Michael reported, less as his leader, but as his friend.

"That's a relief to hear," Billy said tiredly. "I'd hate to think that I'm in hospital for no good reason."

He looked at Rick and was gratified to see a smile on his face.

"And you, you have ta start learning to take orders."

Rick snorted. "You mean like you do?"

"I seem to recall that we've already had this conversation," Billy said.

"Yeh, and you lost," Rick proclaimed with a smile.

"I prefer to call it an impasse. Good thing for me that all of ya are foolhardy," Billy said his expression of gratitude sincere. "I'm grateful to ya."

Michael smiled for a second, but it was quickly replaced by a look that Billy easily read as concern.

"What is it?" Billy asked.

"I hate to break up this moment, but we got some new intel. We couldn't account for two people that were supposed to be in that compound."

"Clearly they're on the run," Rick said simply.

"Maybe, but..." Michael trailed off.

"You don't think they are, do ya? You think they'll be coming back to clean up their mess, to tie up loose ends," Billy said.

"Why would they risk capture?" Rick asked.

"Because these blokes aren't your average, mild-mannered spies, Rick. I read the incident report from the last team that tried to infiltrate that compound. They are your old school, no-spy-left-alive type of crew. Am I right?"

"Yes," Michael concurred. "The last team didn't make sure that everyone was accounted for. By the time they figured it out, every member, but one were taken out one by one."

Michael let the information settle over them, let the realization of what he was reporting sink in.

"I say let them try. I could use the workout," Casey predictably dared.

Michael shook his head. Billy, though, understood the implications, especially to him. He was the most vulnerable, but like Casey, he preferred facing his assassin one on one, not hiding behind a protective detail.

"Michael, I know what you're thinking, that I'll need protecting, but I think there's an opportunity to be had here."

Michael stiffened, knowing what Billy was going to suggest.

"No, Billy, making you a target is NOT an option. You're in no condition to defend yourself."

"Not if you give me a gun. It takes very little effort to shoot one and if I do say so myself, I'm rather adept at the skill. Besides, all of you will be here to cover me. I couldn't be in better or safer hands nor feel as confident that I'll emerge unharmed, well, not additionally harmed at least," Billy debated deftly. "You know it makes sense, Michael. We'll draw them in by coloring my condition as less than stellar and painting me as the perfect victim."

Billy closed his eyes for a second, weariness at making his case depleting his limited reserves. He hoped it wouldn't play against his argument because he really believed it was the necessary thing to do.

"Except that your condition IS less than stellar and you WOULD make the perfect victim," Michael insisted, hoping to turn the logic around on Billy, but knowing that it wouldn't work.

"All the better then to make the part that much more convincing," Billy said playfully, then became serious. "This is important. It's a chance to catch these killers. And I don't know about you, but I'd prefer not to live my life looking over my shoulder."

The three men were struck silent at the irrefutable logic that Billy had presented. He had played to their sense of justice and knew all too well that they wouldn't run away from that, not anymore than he could, no matter how much they didn't want to risk him in accomplishing the mission.

"Okay," Michael reluctantly agreed.

As much as Rick wanted to argue it, protest the idea of using Billy as bait, he knew he'd lose so he didn't try. Billy, for all of his good-natured humor, never took capturing enemies of the state lightly and saving lives even less so. He would be unswayed. All Rick could do was make sure that the implicit trust that Billy was giving him, giving all of them, wouldn't be misplaced.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Despite the understandable objections of the hospital and Billy's doctors, when it was pointed out that the risk of unanticipated threats not only to Billy, but to the hospital and its staff was much greater, they were given the reluctant go ahead to set their sting in motion.

The word had been leaked that Billy was in the hospital and vulnerable so all eyes and ears were on alert.

Billy didn't think he had to fake being vulnerable. He was feeling far from 100%. He felt exhausted and there was some dull pain in his chest that he was trying to control with concentration. He had placed his gun wedged on the left side of his bed, easily reached if the situation started going south and he needed to defend himself or to defend threats to anyone else. He closed his eyes to keep dizziness at bay.

Off in the distance, he heard popping sounds. They were getting closer. In his earwig he heard the chatter. Instead of two gunmen, there had been three of them. They had infiltrated the hospital posing as doctors in scrubs. They had been ID'ed, but instead of surrendering, a firefight had broken out. Then he heard something that made his body go numb. While trying to keep them from getting to him, Rick had been pinned down just a floor below. Michael and Casey were too far to help and keeping at bay the other gunmen.

Billy had detected something in Rick's voice, a hiss then a grunt of pain. That told him that Rick had been injured in the fray. Hearing that his friends were in jeopardy, drove him to get out of bed to help them.

He pulled out his IVs slowly and peeled off all the monitor pads. Luckily he had put on pants so he wouldn't embarrass himself. He took in deep breaths then grabbed his gun. He moved his legs off the bed, gradually placing each foot onto the floor. Though the process was agonizingly slow, he couldn't risk falling or hurting himself before he could assist his friends. His legs held, but he felt light-headed and braced himself on the rail of the bed.

"Bugger," he cursed.

He tapped his earwig.

"Rick, where are you?"

"Stay put, Billy, I'm okay," Rick said as he failed hiding a grunt.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not fooling anyone. Give me your location."

Rick swore. "Stairway. A floor below you."

"How many of them are there?"

"One, I think," Rick said hissing again. "I'm keeping him pinned behind the door."

"Brilliant. Right, I'm going to send help your way. How are you on clips?"

"Got two more," Rick reported.

"Good. Keep him pinned behind the door. I'm on the way."

"No! Billy! Stay there."

"I outrank you, lad and I think we've firmly established that I don't follow orders. Just do as I say. I'm coming."

Billy disconnected and walked out of his room, bracing himself against the door for a moment. A nurse spotted him and ran over. He waved her off.

"My colleague is hurt in the stairway, but he's pinned down by a gunman. Get hospital security and clear this floor and the one below then get your local police here -"

Billy grimaced and leaned against the door again.

"Sir, you're in no condition -"

"No time to argue with you, lass. I need to get to my friend. Just wait for his call up to you. It will be clear and safe for you to help him when he does."

The nurse could only nod as she watched, in sympathy, Billy stagger to the elevators.

Every step was met with harrowing pain, but time was against Rick and Billy pressed on in spite of his body's best efforts to thwart him by trying to destroy his will. He got onto the elevator and rode it down one floor. He was garnering strange and fearful looks from the other occupants in the elevator. He couldn't reveal his mission so he just smiled as best as he could, nodded and rushed out when the doors opened again.

He had to brace himself against the wall to fight off a wave of pain. He shook, trembled and groaned. He took in several breaths, but it was barely keeping things under his control. He found the direction towards the stairway and approached step by tentative and excruciating step. He continued to grapple with the worsening pain in his chest and applied every ounce of self-control to keep from making noise.

As he got closer, he spotted the gunman pinning Rick down. He cocked his gun. The assassin unfortunately heard him and turned. Billy wasted no time and shot the man, but the man also managed to get a couple of shots off and he felt one of the bullets pierce his side. He watched the man collapse to the floor as he leaned on the wall, pain layered upon pain until he didn't know where either one began and ended. He continued his steady encroachment towards the stairway, pain escalating, willing his body to keep moving even though by then it was screaming all kinds of alarms from pain to trembling twitches, begging him to stop.

Billy got to the gunman's body, kicked the gun away and by looking at him, he knew the man was dead. He stepped over the body and into the stairwell. He was aware of the wetness soaking the front of his gown and an overwhelming weakness penetrating his body, but he fought to keep it at bay just until he could make sure that Rick was all right.

"Rick?" Billy called out breathing laboriously.

"Yeh, yeh," Rick said breathless himself from pain.

"You all right there, mate?" Billy asked, twisting in a grimace.

"Yeh. You okay?"

Silence.

"Billy?"

Rick then heard a thud, like the kind that a body makes when it drops to the ground. Panic then assaulted Rick.

"Billy! Answer me!"

Nothing.

Rick pulled himself up the stairs to get to Billy. When he had gotten to the top of the landing, he saw him, slumped, blood staining the front of his gown, his gun dropped from his hand.

"Billy? Billy?"

Billy arched with pain, his other hand coming away from his torso, covered in blood, falling limp at his side. He spied Rick looking at him.

"Y...you all right there, lad?" Billy asked, not realizing that he had already asked the question. His mind was too muddled with pain.

"I'm fine, Billy," Rick said as he got closer to examine Billy, the shock of all the blood made him shake with fear.

"Good," Billy said as he strained to take in a breath. "Good...I fear...I'm quite the opposite."

He took in a couple more breaths then closed his eyes.

"Billy? Billy? SOMEONE HELP, PLEASE!" Rick yelled.

**TBC. Thanks for reading! Hope you'll enjoy Part 2**


	2. Chapter 2

**Guts, Nerve and Grit**

**Part Two:**

They were all dead. The ODS had taken out any remaining threats to them or to any other operatives, but all Michael and Casey could think about was at what cost to their team?

Rick had been shot in the left shoulder, but would recover if facing long days and weeks of physical therapy ahead of him to be back in fighting shape.

Billy hadn't fared as well. He had suffered setbacks from his original injuries such as his lung collapsing again and a small bleed where his heart had been nicked.

In the firefight, the bullet had tore through his abdomen, causing damage and extensive bleeding. They were able to repair as much as they could, but between that and the blood loss, Billy had lost consciousness and had fallen into a coma on his own. The doctors had said that whether Billy emerged from this one was all about him this time. The hope was that once he stabilized as his wounds healed, he would come around, but there was no way to predictably know for sure or how long it would take.

It had left the remaining men of the ODS bereft of hope.

Rick protested just laying in bed when he could walk. He conceded to a sling, but that was all.

He walked to the ICU and stared at Billy, unmoving, a machine breathing for him and all Rick wanted to do was throw-up.

"What was it all for?" He muttered softly, a hitch in his voice.

"For everything," Michael said, putting a comforting hand on Rick's shoulder. "For life. For **your** life."

Rick continued to stare at Billy. He heard the words, but couldn't find a place in his heart for them to comfort. He ached, it ached, but not from his wounds.

"At what cost?"

"It's not about that. It never is. It's about something much deeper than that," Michael said. "Especially for Billy."

Rick bowed his head then looked back at Billy.

"Are you telling me what happened to him was worth it? That what he's already given up, could still give up, was worth it?" Rick said, his voice breaking completely. "That I'm worth it?"

Michael looked at Rick with a bit of shock. He had never seen a crack of belief with Rick, even when he had gotten shot and thought he was going to die, there was resolve that he would have died for something greater, but he saw that crack now.

"Yeh, it's worth it. You're worth it. Like I said, especially for him. He's taken personal responsibility for you and before you put up a protest about how you never asked for that, you didn't have a choice. It's who Billy is. You talk about patriotism. Billy lives and breathes humanity first. Always. There was nothing any of us could have done that would have stopped him from saving you. And instead of feeling guilty for surviving, you should appreciate that he's still here."

"But look at him, Michael," Rick said his voice immersed in emotion now.

"I don't know what you're seeing, Rick, but I see a fighter. Always has been and always will be until he can't fight anymore. That heartbeat," Michael said pointing to the monitor. "That heartbeat is Billy telling us that he hasn't given up yet. It's telling you that you shouldn't either."

Rick took in a breath and calmed. Michael's words were getting through slowly. He nodded.

"No matter what happens, you have to believe that Billy is a fighter and if the worst happens…" Michael said, finding it difficult to say those words, let alone thinking about it happening. "Then for him, we'd have to go on without him. Doing anything else or anything less would be an insult to him, to who he is and to what he represents."

Rick nodded. "It's just that I felt so helpless."

It was Michael's turn to nod.

"I get that. We all do…" Michael said as paused. "He blamed himself, you know. When you got shot and were bleeding out. He actually told me he should have tightened the tourniquet more."

_Flashback_

_Billy was pacing, his hands still smeared with Rick's blood._

"_If you don't stop pacing, I **will** HURT you," Casey bellowed._

"_Damn it, what is taking so bloody long?" Billy cursed._

"_He's going to be fine, Billy," Michael cajoled._

"_I should have tightened that tourniquet a little more."_

"_Now you're just being irrational. There's a fine line between stopping the bleeding and cutting off the circulation," Casey said. _

"_He passed out."_

"_I'd be more surprised if he hadn't," Casey said, continuing to be practical._

"_Probably from your singing," Billy teased, trying to relieve the tension._

_Michael watched with guarded amusement at the exchange._

"_I wouldn't cast aspersions, you, who could break glass with your voice," Casey defended. "I'd like to think I lulled him to sleep."_

_Billy's face couldn't help but burst into a smile._

"_Right you are, that's what it was. You do have that affect on people."_

_Casey gave him a glare, but there was no malice in it. Billy continued to pace._

"_Billy, you did what you could. We all did. It's up to the doctors and Rick."_

"_He's my responsibility," Billy said, deadly serious._

"_He's all our responsibility," Michael softly emphasized._

"_No, Michael, he's my responsibility just as I was…" Billy trailed off._

"_Carson's responsibility," Michael finished._

_Billy didn't confirm or deny, but he didn't have to._

"_You have to stop blaming yourself."_

"_Carson was my responsibility as well. I left him behind. I made a promise to him and I broke it –"_

"_We all left him behind, Billy. We had no choice. He'd understand."_

"_Well, I don't and I never will."_

"_You can't save the world," Michael tried to comfort._

"_I'm not daft, Michael. I know that. I'm not trying to save the world, just those who are within my power to save."_

"_Magic words there, 'within your power to save'. It's not always within your power."_

"_Is the great Michael Dorset, paranoid bastard, extraordinary, trying to tell me that there's a Higher Power at work?" Billy teased._

_Michael smirked._

"_If it will help you sleep at night," he said._

"_Does it help you?" Billy asked softly._

_Michael was silent, but Billy already knew the answer. That kind of rationalization never worked._

Michael and Rick could only continue to watch and hope. It was all they had.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

A few weeks had passed, still no change, both for the good and to the frustration of the three men. Rick had been given a clean bill of health and had been released, but he had never left Billy's side where visiting hours permitted and where sympathetic nurses allowed him to stay beyond those hours. The same courtesy was afforded all the men.

Casey took vigil on a cold rainy night. He could hear the wind and the water splashing against the windows and it gave him a chill even though it was warm in the room. He stared at Billy. Unable to focus his mind or his body towards combat, it made drifting to untapped memories easier. Casey tried to never second-guess the past. Whatever decisions were made were beyond his control to change. All he could do was focus his energies towards present conflicts and learning from any mistakes made in the past and not repeating them again. He was heuristic in his methods.

As the storm-swept night raged outside, all he could do was let his mind meander towards memories and unfortunately for him, they had always manifested in what he had failed to accomplish in a mission. The victories were filed away because there was nothing to be gained from reliving them other than self-satisfaction. Casey seemed doomed to self-flagellation instead. He may talk a good talk, telling Rick that there weren't what-ifs in the CIA, but he was a hypocrite. He always found himself ruminating over lost opportunities or things that he could have done better. He would then afflict himself to hours and hours of physical conditioning in order to weed out any more weaknesses. After all, like any weapon, honing one's skills, oneself was all a part of the process, a prevention of atrophy and apathy.

So, on this night, Casey found himself hopelessly remembering things he'd rather have kept locked away.

_Flashback_

_It was pouring, freezing rain that pelted and stung. Casey and Billy were trudging through foliage and mud, both of them hacking away with their machetes. _

"_I HATE, HATE rain," Casey groused._

_Billy laughed._

"_This reminds me of my mother country, makes me rather nostalgic, really. It would be a mere spring shower there. Hardly worth noticing," Billy said wistfully._

_Billy felt Casey's glare and could only smile._

"_You don't adapt well, do ya?"_

"_I adapt, just not where weather's concerned. It's distracting," Casey said._

_Billy laughed as they continued to slog through the jungle. Billy then heard something. Casey did too. Considering the rushing rain and wind, it was a miracle that they heard anything. He gave Billy the "shhh" sign. They slowed their pace then stilled it. Billy reached for his gun as Casey readied his body, tensing it to spring when the timing was right. They both watched and waited, eyes darting through sheets of water and vegetation in order to zero in on where the assailant was._

_Casey then spotted the gun barrel peering through some leaves. Quickly, he grabbed it, but just as he did, the soldier managed to turn the gun towards Casey. He hadn't caught it, too busy trying to gain control. Billy had though and pulled the barrel away. _

_A shot rang off._

_Casey then finally wrenched the gun free from the man's grip, swung it up and around, slamming the butt of it into the assassin's head where he went down unconscious. Casey was barely out of breath. He held the rifle in his own grip and it was only then that he had noticed he hadn't heard anything from behind him._

"_Billy?" He called._

_Nothing._

_Casey turned and didn't see the Scotsman. Considering how comparatively taller Billy was to Casey, he had a moment of cognitive dissonance at not seeing his friend outright._

_He then heard a groan. He looked down and there was Billy clutching his abdomen, his hands pink with the dilution of blood and rain, the blood rinsing off his hands as quickly as he bled into them._

_Casey, at first, was in shock, but finely tuned instincts kicked in and allowed him to table emotion._

"_Let's get out of here," Casey stated._

_There was no reason to ask a superfluous question such as "are you okay?" It was clear to anyone with eyes that Billy was far from okay and asking it was time wasted in getting him to safety. _

_Casey hoisted Billy over onto his shoulders, the height difference even more starkly exaggerated, but there was strength that years of conditioning more than compensated._

_Billy did his best to alleviate the burden, but the pain kept asserting its dominance._

"_Billy, stop being a hero and give me your full weight. I can take it. You're making it harder on yourself and more importantly, on me by overcompensating. It's not necessary."_

"_Right," Billy said as he allowed himself to slump onto Casey's shoulders._

_After a few more yards of Casey carrying him, Billy knew that he was slowing them both down, that he would have to find a way to get Casey to leave him behind. A simple request would only inflame Casey's resolve to prove him wrong. A debate about the practicalities of leaving him behind would illicit the same petulance. Treachery and guile, an ODS specialty, a particular gift of Billy's, would have to be employed to save his friend from being pulled down with him. _

_He wouldn't have to fake how his injury was affecting him. The pain and the draining energy and strength were very real and becoming more pronounced with each step they took. He knew that sooner rather than later, he was going to be completely dead weight to Casey. Billy had to calculate his waning stamina because he couldn't accomplish what he had planned without some stamina to exert in a burst. Billy didn't relish tricking his friend, but to save his life, Billy would do anything and risk his own life to pull it off successfully._

_"Casey...stop, mate," Billy said with a real groan._

_"No, Billy, we have to keep going. They're not far behind," Casey asserted._

_"I know, I know and I'm not suggesting we surrender, but I have to catch my breath otherwise I will set us both back. I'm just being realistic here. You know I'm right."_

_Casey heard the words, wanted to resist them, but couldn't argue how Billy looked and how he felt on his shoulders._

_"All right, but only for a few minutes so make the most of it. Let me take a look at that wound."_

_Casey eased Billy down to the forest floor. Despite the consideration, the jostling made Billy twitch and groan with pain. The pelting rain didn't make trying to examine the wound any easier, but Casey pulled Billy's hand away and looked at it carefully. The bad news was that the bullet was lodged in him making infection a very real possibility. The good news was the rain was actually helping to keep the wound as clean as possible by washing away the blood and any debris from it._

_Still, Casey's expression was one of disapproval. Less about the wound and more that Billy had to get hurt at all by saving him. It made Casey both irritable and humbled._

_"Damn it, Billy. Why'd you go and do such a stupid thing and get yourself shot? I had everything under control," Casey said in weak defense, knowing it wasn't true._

_He knew deep down that he had acted much more hastily than he'd like to admit, that the situation had gotten quickly out of his control and Billy's actions had been necessary. He hated to make that admission because it was an admission of failure, but it was not lost on him that brooding about it was a waste of energy and he had to keep moving and get Billy help._

_"Of course, that was never in question. Clearly I wasn't thinking," Billy hissed as Casey examined the wound._

_Casey understood what Billy was doing. It was their "routine". It didn't ease the responsibility Casey felt. As the human weapon, his role was crystal clear and in his mind, indisputable. It was his job to protect everyone. Not the other way around._

_Billy heard the slogging and stomping of the encroaching pursuers through the rain and knew that any more time for rest had ended. He had to galvanize what little strength he was able to store up and make his move._

_"You hear them, mate?"_

_"Yeh," Casey said, a noticeable touch of fear in his voice._

_Billy caught it and it only cemented his commitment to seeing through his plan._

_"You ready?" Casey asked._

_"Ready as I'll ever be," Billy said._

_As Casey pulled Billy to his feet, he used the momentum to quickly wrap his arms around Casey's neck to exert the exact amount of pressure to cause unconsciousness. Casey struggled and under fairer circumstances, Billy might have been the one to suffer the consequences of his actions towards the human weapon, but this time, Casey went limp feebly trying to extricate himself. _

_Just before Casey passed out, he heard Billy whisper in his ear._

_"I'm sorry, mate. Had to be done. Couldn't let you get hurt on account of me."_

_When Casey woke up, he was in a field hospital, disoriented and a little angry as memories came flooding back._

_He surveyed his surroundings and next to him was a bloodied Billy, groaning in pain yet able to smile as he turned to look at him._

_"About...time you woke up," Billy teased as he shook with pain, closed his eyes then went still as his heart monitor squealed._

_"Billy? Billy?" Casey called to him without getting an answer._

Casey was then jolted awake by a sound that he thought had come from his dreams, dreams that weren't dreams at all, but painful recollections. Instead, he found himself once again disoriented as he watched doctors swarming Billy's hospital bed just as they had at that field hospital. He had been told that he had to leave, but for only the second time in his life, he found his reflexes slow, his reaction time dulled by shock and confusion.

He backed out of the room, listening to the sounds of machines and humans fighting off a formidable foe, death. He had to hope that Billy was fighting too.

"Damn it, Billy, don't do this to me again. Fight, you stubborn idiot."

**ChaosChaosChaos**

_May you be in heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you're dead._

Rick didn't know why he was thinking of an Irish blessing when Billy was Scottish. He figured it was close enough to Billy's home country to be forgiven. Sometimes his mind would randomly wander like it had with the sailor's prayer. Perhaps it was to comfort himself, but this time it wasn't working.

Billy had coded again while Casey had sat vigil. Rick had never seen the human weapon look completely rigid and speechless with shock, looking as disarmed as any gun.

The atmosphere had grown decidedly grimmer. The rain and wind was still raging outside, fears of a hurricane force storm being whispered through the halls.

Billy's setback, an understatement in Rick's view, had changed his status from critical to grave, an apt yet frightening word to even consider when it involved a friend. The hope that was thin and fragile to start with was on even shakier ground. The doctors had admitted that they held very little hope for Billy's recovery. His coma seemed to be deepening after arresting again. The only good news they were willing to concede was that his brain activity was still normal and that his vitals were once again holding strong and steady, but the bottom line was that optimism had left the building.

As Rick sat in Billy's room, the Irish blessing crossed his mind and he didn't like the idea that some part of him, that any part of him was giving up on Billy, consigning him to death's eventual grip.

For the short time that Rick had known Billy, he had learned first and foremost that not only was Billy a fighter but that he had insisted that same fight for life from others. He had done it with Rick by helping him through when he had been shot in the leg, refusing to let Rick succumb to any kind of acceptance that he was going to die. He had joked and cajoled, had told him stories that had tried to put his situation into the proper perspective, that things could always be worse.

As Rick stared at Billy, he couldn't imagine a worse scenario or a way to communicate that to an unconscious Billy. The only proof that Billy was telling him that he hadn't given up was his steady heartbeat, that despite two arrests, his heart was still beating, that he had come back each time. Rick had to hold on to that even though a part of him was giving in to doubts that even the mighty Billy Collins, born and bruised in North Edinburg, might not have enough guts, nerve, and grit to overcome the assaults to his body.

"They say that people who are unconscious can still hear what's going on. I'd like to believe that and if anyone could, it'd be you..." Rick paused to swallow back tears. "You never let me give up. You refused to let me let go and I swear that you kept me from doing just that single-handedly, but I...I don't know how to return the favor. I don't know how to tell you to not let go."

Rick rubbed his face and cleared his throat. He was barely keeping his emotions contained.

"Casey would threaten you. Michael would order you...me? I guess all I can do is beg you to come back. Asking you to stay wouldn't be right. You'd never want to stay this way. I know that. You once told me being alive isn't the same as living life and if I knew you were telling me to help you leave, I would without reservation, but I don't want you to do that so I guess I'm also begging you to not ask that of me..." Rick took in a breath. "If you hear anything from me, hear me begging you to come back. I...I really need you to come back."

Rick felt a small hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned and looked up. He saw Adele there, smiling sadly down at him and her presence gave his emotions permission to break. He stood up, embraced her tightly and began to sob. Adele returned the embrace and rubbed his back and shoulders lovingly and supportively. She felt his body shudder and heard small whimpers brush into her ears. Everything in Rick's hold told her everything she needed to know. He was afraid, he was hurting, he needed her, and he needed Billy.

After a few moments of holding Rick, she finally convinced him to get something to eat for the both of them. It allowed her to be alone with Billy. She sat in a nearby chair, took his hand and placed it against her cheek. She had taken a liking to Billy both for his charm and for how he had treated Rick like a brother, a protector as well as teacher. Rick had talked about how much Billy had taken time with him that the others hadn't. It had meant the world to him as a young operative.

Adele felt guilty about feeling grateful to Billy for saving Rick because by doing that, he had ended up injured and fighting for his own life. Still, she knew Billy enough to know the kind of man he was and saving Rick was something completely second nature to him. She knew that Billy would never regret the choice he had made.

"I know I don't have to say this, but...thank you for saving him," said Adele tearfully. "Now, I have to ask you to do one more favor, for me…save yourself for him."

Adele took in a breath, put Billy's hand back down on the bed, but didn't let it go. She looked back at him, her tears streaking her face.

"Maybe I have no right to ask you…maybe you want to let go…I know that it might even be cruel to ask you to come back, but…Rick needs you. They all do. You have no idea how much you are worth to them. I'm afraid Rick will fall apart without you. You give him more than he shows. So, if you can hear me, if it's within your will to do it, please come back."

Adele continued to hold Billy's hand when she felt his fingers twitch in hers. She looked down and saw this fingers trembling to curl around her hand, the grip barely there, but the effort clearly more than just a muscle spasm. She then heard a moan. She looked back up and Billy's eyes were at half-mast, slowly blinking, confusion was wrinkling his haggard features. Then there was struggle as he began to choke on the ventilator tube.

"Billy, calm down. I'll get help," Adele said as she comfortingly pressed a hand on his chest.

She then ran out into the hallway and called out for a nurse.

"Please! Someone help me!"

She saw someone running her way so she re-entered Billy's room. Her tears were streaming as she kept eye contact with his gaze.

"Thank you, Billy," she choked out.

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Billy felt like he was floating.

Here there was no pain, the memories of his mistakes just ethereal ghosts that could no longer hurt him. He had only sketchy details of what had happened to him to bring him to where he was, but he somehow knew that if he let this floating existence go, he would feel immediate and unrelenting pain so there was a part of him that didn't want to leave this safe and tranquil place, but another part, a part of him that felt the weight of responsibility as well as an overwhelming rush of emotional connection was pulling him towards that pain.

There was warmth where the pain was waiting for him. Not warmth from heat, but not unlike the security of having someone hold you in a comforting embrace where you could relax completely into it, feel protected and where suffering that pain was worth it because you were in the presence of that embrace. His mum's embrace had been like that. He had lost her years ago, but he could recall that memory of warmth at any point whenever he had felt lost and utterly alone. He had recalled it when his career had ended in shambles back home and it had soothed him.

This current warmth was not from a past so long ago. It was within his reach if he had wanted to grasp it, but the pain awaiting that touch frightened him. Still he recognized that warmth. It was a fidelity to friendship so deep and so formidable he would sacrifice everything to ensure that none of his friends would be lost to him. Better he to them even though he understood how his loss would devastate them. That thought brought a twinge of pain, not from him, but from another place outside of his present environs. From someone else…but he couldn't put his finger on who it was. Things here were still vague and shadowy. They were clouded perceptions that he wanted to clear, but was afraid to try, the knowledge of unforgiving pain haunting him. He didn't used to be fearful of pain, but he knew this pain would be unlike the others. He'd have to claw out of it to be rid of it. He wasn't sure he had the strength.

There was also newfound warmth in profound purpose towards an innocent, to someone he affectionately referred to as "barely out of nappies". He felt an ache there. Again, not from him or his injuries, but from a pull that felt desperate, needy, agonized even. His loss to this one would be devastating. A sharp, knife-like jolt of pain startled him as the emotion visualized to him as a hot flash of piercing light full of despair, a despair so ravaging that it would destroy that innocent's view of the world irreparably. Suddenly, the strength he thought he had lacked was there for that innocent. To spare that young recruit disillusionment and pain, he would bare his soul for flagellating in his place. Funny, the power of that emotion surprised him. He had grown close to that young man even though only knowing him for a short time. He had seen himself in him, had seen the idealism in him and the desire to protect him from the disillusionment he had suffered was absolute.

Then he heard voices, disembodied pleas to him, begging to be heard, hoping for a response, but he felt their torment at his silence. He felt their pain and instantly felt an overwhelming impulse to give them the answers they needed, but he had no voice, his instrument made mute by the restraints of his crippled body.

"_I don't know what you see, Rick, but I see a fighter. Always has been and always will be until he can't fight anymore. That heartbeat," Michael said. "That heartbeat is Billy telling us that he hasn't given up yet. It's telling you that you shouldn't either."_

_"Damn it, Billy, don't do this to me again. Fight, you stubborn idiot."_

_"If you hear anything from me, hear me begging you to come back. I...I really need you to come back."_

_"Now, I have to ask you to do one more favor, for me…save yourself for him."_

Suddenly, he no longer feared the pain. He felt pulled again by the longings of his friends, their names finally coming to clarity. Michael, the leader, Casey, the human weapon, and young Rick, dubbed the translator, but he had become more than his moniker. The collective he called his friends were beckoning him back to consciousness, to the inevitable rush of suffering that will come with the traumas to his body, that is, after all, what living is about; enduring and overcoming for a purpose that enlivens the will and that strengthens human resolve. Death might bring peace, but only to him and he could not abide substituting his peace at the cost of his friends'; their well-being was non-negotiable in his eyes. He had to go back to them. Pain be damned.

He felt himself floating again, there was no light to guide him out, only darkness, but he knew where he was going and with each glide, he felt pain asserting itself, but he was undeterred. He felt the caress of someone's hand in his and he used the comforting sensation to lead him out of the darkness. He called upon his muscles, tendons and reflexes to move and give the hand holding his a sign, a signal that he was emerging from the gloom of his unconsciousness. Then there it was. A squeeze of recognition, surprise and shock intermingled with relief and joy. He forced opened his eyes, which shouldn't have taken so much effort to do and yet it felt like he was pushing against weights on his lids. Finally, a half-mast accomplishment would have to suffice. The shapes were murky, indiscriminate and despite best efforts, his brain wouldn't engage identification, but he knew from the touch, it was someone caring, comforting so he continued to try to discern who was there. Then something decidedly more unpleasant began to make its presence known; first, choking, gagging, then the awareness of uncomfortable and strained breathing, an obstruction in his throat then panic seeped in.

A lulling voice then said, "Billy, calm down. I'll get help." Feminine. Familiar. Someone he knew he should know, but he still couldn't put a name to it or to the blurry blob moving into his line of sight, then realization languidly filtered in. Adele. Rick's Adele. He calmed at her kind instruction and waited, waited for freedom from the tube and taking his own breaths, but just as he was anxious to be able to breath on his own, he felt the rising tide of pain and it was so intense he moaned. Still, it was worth it, coming back from the dead was worth it. Another remembrance seeped in.

_"What was it all for?"_

_"For everything," Michael's voice filtered through. "For life. For **your** life."_

**ChaosChaosChaos**

Billy felt like he had been beaten and thrashed to within an inch of his life and had lost. Every breath and swallow burned his throat and literally ached in his chest. He felt just lifting his left arm was heavy weight training. Though the pain medication had been a godsend, weak didn't even begin to describe how he felt. He had never felt so tired, not even after an all night bender. It had been awhile since anything had driven him to that. The last time he had experienced despair that profound was when they had lost Carson.

Memories of what had happened to him had rushed back as soon as consciousness had seeded itself firmly. All the various tests had shown that there had been no cognitive damage, that his vitals were strong, and that there was no indication of infection. The collective relief had been palpable. Still, Billy had a long way to go to full recovery yet he was grateful to be alive and among his friends again.

Rick had been his first visitor. Billy thought that he had looked worse than he did. It didn't take having the observational skills of a CIA agent to see how harshly Rick had fared in the past month that Billy had been incommunicado. Dark circles showed sleep deprivation and a thinning frame indicated that he hadn't been eating regularly, if at all. His arm wasn't in a sling anymore, but Billy could tell that it was against doctor's orders because every movement caused a grimace on Rick's face. He tried to smile, but it crumbled to barely a smirk, his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed.

"You look like bloody hell there, mate," Billy rasped with a weak smile, his voice still lacking any kind of authority.

"You're not looking so good yourself," Rick retorted back, lacking his own kind of conviction.

"Yes, well, getting shot does that to a person," Billy teased, but had instantly regretted it as he spied the error in making light of his injuries to Rick.

Rick's expression suddenly turned from crumbled to crestfallen and he looked as if he were going to collapse in front of Billy.

"Sorry, lad, that was poor judgment on my part. I didn't mean to –"

"No, no, it's me. I'm just tired."

"I can see that and I suspect it's been all on account of me," Billy said. "I'm truly sorry for putting you, all of you, through such harrowing days, but now I'm back and on the road to recovery so you must listen to doctor's orders now and take care yourself. The CIA can ill afford yet another operative hospitalized, yeh?"

Billy hoped that the concerned tone would soften the gentle scolding.

Rick sat into a nearby chair and took in a deep breath.

"I know that this kind of thing happens. It's part of the work. I'm not naïve and I know that if I'm going to keep doing this job, I better toughen up about it, but I…I don't know if I can…maybe this is just a sign that I wasn't cut out for -" Rick said as he put his face into his hands.

"Hero's work? Rubbish. If anyone is suited for the work, it's you," Billy said confidently and sincerely.

"How can you say that after what happened?" Rick asked, lifting his head to look at Billy.

"And what exactly are **you**remembering, mate? I know that I've been out of sorts of late, but I seem to recall a certain operative defying orders and putting his own physical safety at risk, by the way, to pull me out of a firefight."

Billy's voice was laced with both gratitude and exhaustion.

"Then you had to get out of a hospital bed to save me. All because I was careless and got pinned down. You almost died because I didn't do my job," Rick said.

Billy felt sympathy for Rick. He had been where he was now when they had lost Carson.

"Rick, that was my choice to make. Afraid you're not the only one subject to reckless and insubordinate behavior. Doesn't make what happened to me your fault. I'd do it again without hesitation and I know you would as well. I wasn't joking. You possess the heart of a hero. Your guilt, unnecessary as it is, just proves it to me, not that I needed it. It can be a heartless and merciless mistress and trying to control her is often an exercise in futility, but Casey's right, it's a waste of energy. Better to expend it in more productive ways is my feeling."

Billy took a deep breath. He saw Rick still looking at him.

"I've been where you are, lad and I'm here to tell ya, you won't be able to do the job if you let the guilt consume you. If you need absolution from me, you have it unconditionally and you always will have it, but believe me, it's not me you need it from."

Rick continued to look at Billy.

"Have you absolved yourself?" Rick asked gently without recrimination.

Billy was struck by the question. He wasn't expecting self-reflection and existential thoughts to enter into the conversation though having had his brush with death he supposed it made sense that he took an accounting of his successes and failures as well as regrets.

"Not for everything, mate, probably never will for some, but enough to keep me doing the work because I believe it to be too important to give it anything less than my undivided dedication. I have come to terms, if not necessarily to acceptance, that mistakes, failures even, happen," Billy exhaled using his whole body to sink into the bed. "Lives are lost too, no matter how much you try to prevent them. Mine will be too someday, but I'll have no regrets, you see. I don't consider it noble or heroic just that it is more than just a part of the job yet it's everything about it because if you're not willing to accept that, to risk your life to save another, a friend, then you might as well walk away because you're doing it a disservice if you don't."

Rick listened intently to Billy's words and felt every word and the deep meaning that he gave to them. Billy had a way with words, had a way of seeing the world that, given all he'd gone through, all that had been done to him, you'd think he wouldn't see it as untarnished, still hopeful for mankind, but you could tell that he was by the lilt in his voice that had nothing to do with his accent.

"So, you'll not convince me that crawling out of my hospital bed to save you was the wrong choice. It was the only choice, mate."

Rick nodded. A shaky smile came to his face. Billy was heartened that he was able to alleviate some of Rick's guilt. He was still young, vulnerable, unsullied by the ugliness that living as an agent can sometimes bring to you over time. He understood that ugliness, been betrayed by its claim to patriotism only to have it and his soul banished, that pain was far worse than what he had just gone through. Billy knew betrayal and could detect it within someone with less than honorable intentions. He knew he was in the company of no such deceivers, except where deception was applied to accomplish a mission. Each of his friends was an upstanding and principled man and he had been lucky to find himself counted among them. What he had suffered for them was worth everything.

**FIN. Hope you enjoyed the read. Thanks for sticking with it.**


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